


Satiating

by yeaka



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, PWP, Useless, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 09:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Yuuri worries over Victor going into heat during his first time in Japan.





	Satiating

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Special thanks to pt_tucker for betaing~
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri on Ice or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s never been so difficult to sleep. It’s been difficult ever since Victor first arrived, and Yuuri would be up all night in a fit of anxiety over it—over _not being good enough_ or screwing up or something stupid like that—or just too consumed with a strange, juxtaposed glee. This is the worst of it, and another mix of both: of _joy_ that Victor’s here _now_ , what an honour it is to see Victor in this unique light like so few ever do, and of _worry_ for poor Victor, who’s more alone than ever. Maybe there was someone in Russia that could help him through this, but if so, they’re too far away now to do a lick of good.

Yuuri catches himself daydreaming about what it’d be like to _be that person_. But he cuts himself off, as usual. Before, he’d stop because it made him depressed to know it could never be, and now because he doesn’t want to get any stupid ideas. There’s nothing he can do about it. Victor’s a grown man, and this is hardly his first full moon. He’ll know how to get through it. And that has nothing to do with skating—his lowly trainee shouldn’t have any part in it. 

Yuuri rolls over and buries his face in his pillow. It helps cover the stench. The air reeks of pheromones, if that even makes any sense. Yuuri hopes the rest of his family and their guests can’t smell it this badly. He hopes it’s just him, because he’s so obsessed, and he knows to look for it. Of course he knows what Victor is. He knew even before Victor so casually told him in the hot springs on Tuesday. And he knows what that smell is. It’s Victor’s _want_ , and it does something to Yuuri’s head, makes him sweat beneath the covers and think of what Victor must be doing right now, thrashing about in bed with all-consuming urges driving him wild with lust—

Clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle a sudden moan, Yuuri tells himself to _shut up_. He feels like he can hear Victor’s moans through the walls, pained and needy, but he tells himself it’s in his mind. And then he really _does_ hear something: a lilting, garbled cry in Victor’s throaty voice, and all Yuuri can do is quiver and listen.

He gives up. He rolls back over to reach for the nightstand, soaked in shame.

* * *

He’s three fingers deep when his door slides open, and Yuuri’s tense to his toes in a heartbeat. He jerks his fingers out of himself, wincing at it, slicking lube down across his thigh. Panting and rock-hard, he has to force his mind back down to planet Earth. He leans up on one shoulder, peering through the darkness—the door’s slammed shut again, and Victor’s storming forward, like a vision right out of Yuuri’s lewd fantasies. Yuuri’s... speechless. And grateful the blanket’s covering his sins.

There’s just enough moonlight in the room to see Victor in all his perfect glory: the lush silver hair that sweeps over one eye, slicked across his flushed cheek, and the tall, rounded furry ears of a _wolf_ that never emerge but for nights like this. A bushy silver tail flicks out behind him, lifting the hem of his green yukata. His sash is already missing, and before Yuuri’s very eyes, Victor opens the folds. 

Yuuri splutters something like, “ _Victor_ , what—”

And Victor cuts him off with a little groan, ears twitching visibly at the sound of his name. Victor drops the fabric to the floor, letting the rest slither down his body, pooling at his feet. In a flash, Yuuri’s left looking at a very naked Victor Nikiforov. It isn’t the first time Yuuri’s gotten this legendary sight, but the effect is no duller for it. Whatever bit of his erection lessened from the shock of the interruption, it recovers now: he’s immediately at full mast. 

He’s stunned, though, and just sort of gapes as Victor comes forward to crawl onto his bed, just as graceful on all fours as on the ice. But grace is a part of Victor, and maybe Yuuri should’ve expected that. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. His throat’s dry.

Climbing right up the mattress until he’s next to Yuuri, hovering right over the tent Yuuri’s crotch makes, Victor purrs, “I can’t sleep, _Yuuri_... you smell too good...” Yuuri gulps, confused, because Victor’s the one that smells like sex itself. It’s almost nauseatingly intoxicating. Victor leans in so close that Yuuri can feel his breath. Then he moans, “I want you so much...”

Even though he’s half convinced he’s fallen asleep and dreaming of heaven, Yuuri somehow manages: “That’s... that’s just the heat talking...” His voice is weak and shaky, and he hates that. 

Victor pouts adorably, in that bizarre way of his that makes no sense on a man his age. “ _Nyet_ , I want you—I came here because you were so cute—”

“Doing your routine,” Yuuri insists, even though his dick is yelling at him to be quiet and just accept this gift. His hole twitches conspicuously, feeling strange for being half-played with, but he refuses to let his hands roam, instead clenching them at his sides. His body’s rigidly still.

“And you looked so beautiful doing it!” Victor hums, expression becoming suddenly wistful. If possible, Yuuri’s blushing even deeper—he’s sure he’s cherry red by now. “I thought, mm, the things I would do to that man in my heat... or just for fun after he won me a gold medal...” Victor breaks off to practically _purr_ like some kind of cat, and his eyes fix back on Yuuri, full of hunger. He finishes, quieter and deep, “And you get cuter every day, Yuuri... you work so hard for me, yes?”

Yuuri nods numbly. Victor hums in approval and leans so close that Yuuri’s pressed down into the pillow from trying to keep space between them. “I see the way you look at me, you know,” Victor all but growls. “You’ve done well—I think you deserve to take what you want.” His grin stretches wide, like he’s just been waiting for Yuuri to do that, to step up and admit his burning attraction. Yuuri doesn’t have the will to deny it.

Then Victor darts in to close the distance, pressing his lips against Yuuri’s with bruising force, and Yuuri’s instantly dizzy. He’s too shocked to kiss back, and before he can, Victor’s withdrawing just enough for Yuuri to see the full breadth of his handsome face. He runs a long tongue across his pink lips and makes a pleasured rumbling noise. 

Yuuri stares at him, at his mouth, replaying the kiss on a loop, then just sort of... 

Snaps.

He slams up, catching Victor by surprise—he hears Victor’s muffled noise—but he just keeps shoving forward, determined to take this before he loses his nerve. He meets Victor in a searing kiss, immensely relieved and pleased when Victor starts kissing him back. Victor prods his tongue against Yuuri’s lips, and of course Yuuri opens right up. He doesn’t really know what to do, having not had a whole lot of practice, but in the moment, it doesn’t seem to matter, because all he can think about is _Victor_ , and Victor seems eager enough for both of them. Victor traces the entirety of Yuuri’s mouth with his tongue, and when Yuuri tries to pull back to get his bearings, Victor just kisses him down into the pillow, climbing properly over him. Victor bucks down, his hips dragging across Yuuri’s, and even through the thick blanket, Yuuri can feel the hard outline of Victor’s cock. 

He wants to shove Victor off and get a proper _look_ , because Victor came at him too fast in too dim light for Yuuri to really memorize the view like he wanted, but there’s no stopping Victor now. Victor mewls happily at feeling Yuuri’s tented crotch, and Yuuri returns a muffled groan as Victor’s digs into him. Victor lets his mouth go just long enough to purr, “I can feel that you want me too, Yuuri...” like there was ever any chance that Yuuri wouldn’t. He’s full of Victor’s tongue a second later, but this time, just as Yuuri’s finally worked up the nerve to move his hands and actually _touch_ Victor, it ends too soon. 

Victor straightens out, at least giving Yuuri a chance to ogle his taut chest, as he starts pushing the blankets away. Yuuri’s instantly self-conscious and darts a hand down to yank up his pajama bottoms as high as they’ll go, but Victor barely seems to notice. He crawls right down the mattress to lie beside Yuuri. His long body reaches further than Yuuri’s, and it looks glorious in the moonlight, every slender curve and tight muscle on delicious display—Yuuri doesn’t know where to look first, except that his eyes are automatically drawn to the thick shaft poking into the white sheets. Victor’s puffy tail flicks as Victor’s slim hips press forward into Yuuri’s, and somehow, the strange addition doesn’t bother him at all. Victor looks just as delectable as always, the ears and tail only adding to his allure, making him all the more _special_ , rare, exotic: a strange mix of cute and _hot_ , and Yuuri wants him so much...

But they also remind Yuuri that the full moon has Victor’s blood pumping twice as fast, and his body’s screaming at him to mate where his mind otherwise might not. At least, that’s what Yuuri thinks—he doesn’t see how _the_ Victor Nikiforov could possibly want little old _him_.

Before he can protest, Victor moans, “ _Yuuri_ ,” like a prayer. A shiver runs down the length of Yuuri’s body, and Victor ducks to kiss Yuuri’s neck. His jaw stretches open to drag blunt teeth and two sharp fangs along the dip of Yuuri’s throat, carefully angled not to cut. Yuuri’s too turned on to be afraid. Victor’s hands start tugging at his clothes, hiking his shirt up his stomach, then pushing at his pants. Yuuri thinks to fight it, but that wouldn’t be fair—not when he gets all of Victor. He distracts himself from the embarrassment of being stripped by finally reaching for Victor’s hair—he threads his fingers through it, and it’s just as soft as he’s always imagined.

Victor seems to smile against him, affectionately chewing on his neck as he pets Victor behind one pointed ear. It makes Victor buck into him all the harder, and then both Yuuri’s pajama bottoms and boxers are tugged so low that his shaft’s threatening to pull out, and Victor’s hand darts inside to wrap around it. Yuuri cries out instantly, and Victor gives his cock a little squeeze whilst nuzzling into his throat. 

“You’re so hard, Yuuri,” Victor coos, as though both impressed and pleasantly surprised. His accent’s even thicker like this, but Yuuri’s always loved the sound of it. Victor fishes him out of his pants, exposing the head of his cock to the cold night air while the rest is trapped in Victor’s harsh grip. Yuuri’s already trembling in an effort not to buck right into Victor’s hand. Victor shifts his weight, moving his other hand under Yuuri’s hip, and it leaves nothing for him to hold himself up on—he collapses on top of Yuuri, stifling Yuuri in a thick, cloying heat and making it worse by the constant attention to his throat. Yuuri’s cock is sandwiched against Victor’s smooth stomach, almost ready to burst. 

Victor spends a moment just grinding them together, robbing Yuuri of every last coherent thought, until Yuuri’s right at the edge. Then Victor suddenly yanks back, leaving a warm, wet patch on Yuuri’s neck and a stain of precum on his stomach. 

Sitting up to look down at Yuuri with a triumphant gleam, Victor grabs Yuuri’s legs and starts to push them up, then open them, settling himself down between. He makes quick work of both Yuuri’s pants and boxers, practically ripping them off, and the only reason Yuuri doesn’t snatch them back is because he’s busy just staring at Victor. With Yuuri’s knees finally bent up over his shoulders, Victor bends down again to hike Yuuri’s shirt up higher, bunching it between his armpits, and kisses the middle of Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri has to fight the urge to shut his eyes—he doesn’t want to see any judgment in Victor’s. But he also doesn’t want to miss a moment. It’s bad enough he isn’t wearing his glasses, but he only just thought of it and can’t interrupt them in time to grab them—Victor’s already pressing Yuuri’s knees back to his shoulders and staring down between.

Wearing a purely wolfish grin, Victor notes, “You prepared yourself for me, Yuuri—that was good thinking.” Yuuri doesn’t have the heart to correct him or admit the shameful truth. Victor rewards Yuuri with another kiss, then suddenly brings one hand up between them, and the next thing Yuuri knows, his mouth is full of Victor’s fingers.

He tries to suckle on the three of them, tongue catching the end of Victor’s pinky on the way out, and Victor smiles happily as he pistons in and out of Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri gets the idea, and even though he’s already dripping with lube, he studiously licks Victor’s fingers. Victor pulls them out soon enough and reaches back—then Yuuri feels the dull press of them between his cheeks, and his hands fly to Victor’s shoulders. 

He holds on tight as Victor probes him, just tracing over his asshole at first, then stretching the puckered muscle, then, finally, pushing one tip inside. Yuuri bites his lip—no need to wake everyone more than he probably already has. Victor makes an approving noise and pushes deeper, slow but steady, more and more, until Yuuri’s rocking into it and wishing Victor would just _fuck him already._ He already worked himself wide enough, and there isn’t much resistance to Victor’s intrusion. The immense embarrassment of having _someone else’s fingers there_ is swallowed up in hot desire. He wants Victor so badly he can barely think. Victor stretches him more and more, until Yuuri’s sure he’s almost taking Victor’s whole hand, and he breaks his silence to pant, “Victor, please—”

Victor silences him with a kiss, obligingly withdrawing his hand. The uncomfortable sensation of being too empty only lasts a brief moment before the head of Victor’s cock is lined up with his entrance, and the next thing Yuuri knows, he’s seeing stars as Victor’s slamming into him. 

Thick and burning up, Victor thrusts forward, so far on the first go that Yuuri screams into Victor’s mouth. He’s grateful Victor’s muffling it, even though the room’s now filling up with other sounds—the bed dragging back as Victor draws into him, and the sweat-slicked slap of their stomachs as Victor pulls them together. Yuuri’s fingers dig into Victor’s shoulders blades, clawing for purchase. Victor goes until he’s fully seated, until he’s so far in that Yuuri feels like he’s choking on it. Victor grinds in, only to withdraw almost to the edge, then stab back inside so hard that Yuuri hears his bed hit the wall. The pillow’s fluffed up against it on the next thrust, protecting Yuuri’s head from bashing into it. Victor starts up a brutal pace, taking him so fiercely that for a brief moment, Yuuri wonders how wise it was to take a werewolf in heat into his house.

But it’s not just any werewolf; _it’s Victor Nikiforov_ , and that exhilarating fact makes the burn worth it. It takes everything Yuuri has not to instantly come. He wants this to last for as long as it possibly can. He wants to savour every moment. He throws himself into Victor’s feverish kisses and to riding Victor’s cock, rocking into every thrust. When Victor’s hand tries to snake between them, Yuuri shoves it away—he won’t last with Victor’s hands around his cock. He can feel Victor smirk against his lips, and Victor’s hands trace patterns on his hips instead, running along his legs to caress his thighs, dipping down to grab his chest. Yuuri gasps and moans into every desperate touch, clinging to Victor for dear life. 

He doesn’t know how long it lasts, but it seems to go a small eternity, except Victor breaks the string of messy kisses too soon to praise: “You have impressive stamina, Yuuri.” Yuuri just tries to go for his mouth again, and Victor murmurs against him, “And you feel _so good_...” Yuuri’s glad, because Victor feels _amazing_ , too much and still everything he’s ever wanted. “But I want to feel every part of you.”

Victor pulls back before Yuuri’s even registered the words. The second Victor’s shaft pulls out of him, Yuuri cries out, tossing an arm over his mouth to stifle it. He feels instantly too-empty, gaping open and dripping onto the sheets, but Victor’s still moving. Victor draws Yuuri’s legs back, pressing them flat down to the bed, and then he climbs right over Yuuri’s lap. He crouches over Yuuri’s crotch, knees bend and perched on his toes, tail draped over one thigh as he reaches beneath himself. Yuuri wishes he could see it better, but he can’t move a muscle—he’s right on the edge. He thinks he heard somewhere that werewolves are _prepared_ during heat, though he never knew for sure—he’s only had sex a small handful of times, all with regular humans. Those times were good, but this is infinitely better. 

Victor hovers over him, taking Yuuri’s cock to position it, until Yuuri’s tip is brushing against Victor’s puckered brim. He holds his breath and clenches his teeth as Victor starts to sink down, then drops all at once, letting his full weight bear down on Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri shoots up inside him in one quick, rapturous movement. He’s just about to break when Victor bends down again to pry open Yuuri’s mouth and fill it with tongue—letting Yuuri scream as loud as he needs. It changes the angle, making it not as deep, but still _heaven_ , and Victor rocking into him is everything. Yuuri doesn’t even have to do anything, because Victor rides him so well. Victor sets the same relentless pace. Yuuri wants to push him back, to make him sit up so Yuuri can eye every little detail as he moves. It would probably be best: to let Victor’s werewolf side come out, and let Victor fuck himself on Yuuri’s cock to his heart’s content, just using Yuuri’s pliant body. Except that Yuuri loves Victor too much to just play doll. That _love_ hits him like a freight train, and he acts on it before he can think to stop himself—he grabs Victor tight and rolls them right over, dangerously close to the edge of the bed, where he can pin Victor down and fuck Victor right. 

Despite the fangs and fur, Victor seems to have no problem with Yuuri showing strength, so Yuuri doesn’t miss a beat. He covers Victor’s mouth again, letting his tongue explore those fangs, and Victor clings happily to him as he fills Victor to the brink and repeats it all. Victor’s insanely tight, scorching and vivid—Victor seems to pulse all around him, clinging to him. When he worms his hand between them, Victor seems to have no qualms with Yuuri grabbing his cock. Yuuri squeezes it as thickly as he dares, then starts pumping in time with his thrusts. Feeling Victor in his hands is almost as good as feeling Victor around his cock. He fucks his amazing idol just as thoroughly as he’s always wanted, and Victor takes every thrust with enthused ardour. Yuuri’s never been so happy. 

But it’s too good to last. He wants to come. Needs to. He tries to hold back, and wars that battle out in Victor’s mouth. Just before he’s there, Victor seems to choke, and Yuuri pauses, only for Victor to splatter all over his hand and their stomachs. So Yuuri kicks back to life, pumping it out and licking and swallowing all of Victor’s languid moans. His orgasm seems to last impossibly long, spilling a copious amount, but Yuuri gratefully milks it all—he wants Victor to have the best heat Yuuri can give. 

And Yuuri’s there before Victor’s even finished, exploding deep inside Victor’s channel. He grinds it in as he pumps Victor out, and Victor squirms and whimpers beneath him. He can feel where Victor’s tail thrusts Victor’s hips up. All Yuuri can think about is _Victor_ as he spirals down afterwards, lingering for a while in that hazy, weightless bliss.

When there’s nothing left, he’s slumping down, spent and utterly boneless. The he remembers how horribly overweight he is, and he hurriedly rolls off of Victor, pulling out too fast and making Victor wince. He wants to apologize. For everything. But he’s too dizzy to talk and can’t seem to form the words. 

Victor slurs, “ _Yuuri_ ,” in a sleepy haze. He rolls up to Yuuri’s side and latches on, arms wrapping around his middle and legs tangling with his. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, Victor cuddles him somewhere right between lazily and possessively. It’s clear there’d be no point trying to send Victor back to the spare room.

Yuuri wants nothing more than to hold Victor, to cuddle him back until the full moon wanes. But the sex was too intense, and he passes out while Victor’s still shallowly humping him and murmuring his name.

* * *

When Yuuri first starts to come to in the morning, he can’t get away from how warm he is. He squirms under his blanket, trying to drag it higher over his head anyway to fight the sun, but it’s pinned down somewhere and won’t reach. Then he realizes his shirt’s bunched up around his chest, and it’s the only thing he’s wearing. 

He opens his eyes, and all he can see is Victor’s handsome face. Bathed in the bright gentle glow of the morning sun, Victor dons a brilliant smile that makes Yuuri quiver just to see. Last night comes tumbling back into him, but now Victor’s ears are gone, and Yuuri’s sure that if he lifted up the blanket, he wouldn’t find any tail. 

Victor’s all better, and they both bear the evidence of it—Yuuri’s body is crusted with drying sweat and cum. He blushes profusely when he remembers just where _he_ came. He looks at Victor, full of shame and fear, even though Victor’s smiling so beautifully, and all he can manage is a weak, “I’m sorry.” He can hear the waver in his voice, like he’s going to come apart.

“Sorry?” Victor repeats, like Yuuri said it in another language foreign to both of them.

“For... for taking advantage of you in your heat...”

“Taking advantage?” Victor chuckles. He stretches pointedly out, scrunching his nose and eyes closed as his arm goes taut over Yuuri’s shoulder, only to relax again and fall onto Yuuri. Victor sighs contentedly, “That was the best heat I’ve had in _ages_.” 

All the wind seems to leave Yuuri’s body. He asks tentatively, “You still, um... you actually... like me, then...?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Victor quips, enough to make Yuuri grimace, before Victor’s folding tightly around him, enveloping him in the sort of bone-crushing hug that he needs right now. “I think you’ll make a perfect mate... once you win me the gold, of course.”

Yuuri lets out a singular laugh. Then he collapses around Victor, so happy he could cry.


End file.
